Unlucky in dying
by CJK
Summary: She was left with an Alistair-sized hole in her life and a silent former teyrn at her back, under her command.
1. Chapter 1

Bandits were preying on travellers even this close to Denerim now, with the Blight pressing on and so much of Ferelden thrown into disarray. They'd fended them off, of course; simply the sight of Sten and Oghren rushing forward with their weapons drawn was enough to send some of the men running, although entirely too many blows were exchanged anyway.

Elissa was, she would have been the first to admit, glad for the action. Since they'd left Denerim her thoughts had been in turmoil and the absence of Alistair was like an empty sucking hole at her side. She missed his silly jokes, his infectious grin, his solid, dependable presence at her side.

Well, apparently not dependable enough.

She'd tried to reason with him afterwards. _It's what we _do_, Alistair. How is this different from Zevran?_ _There are only three of us; why not him? _And a last, final attempt, _Please, Alistair, it's not like I chose him over you. It's simply expedient—_

Sometimes she forgot how young he was, how blinded by his love for Duncan. He hadn't stayed long enough for Riordan to tell him how Duncan himself had been recruited, and when she'd heard that tale she had been torn between laughing hysterically and crying for Alistair, whose heroes had always been bigger than life.

Riordan had only shrugged. _He _is_ a Grey Warden, no matter what he does now. He will find the darkspawn, in the end. Or they will find him._

How _very_ comforting, Alistair would have said, with an eye-roll and a wry smirk. Only Alistair was gone, and she had only looked away, hating Riordan and his pragmatism with a sudden fiery jolt. But apparently this is what being a Grey Warden entailed, too. She should have remembered Duncan's recruits, the thieves and the husbands torn from their families and then stuck like pigs in their helpless fear. Her own recruitment, when he'd all but dragged her away from her parents, her throat raw from her screams and her hands covered in her father's blood.

_Alistair_ should have remembered. But he was gone, blind and young and stubborn.

And she was left with an Alistair-sized hole in her life and a silent former teyrn at her back, under her command.

It was Shale who first made her pay attention, when they were setting up camp for the night, still in the hills around Drakon River.

"Is it sure it has made a wise decision?"

Elissa looked up from hammering in the last tent peg. "Oh, not you, too. I'm sorry if I'm not in the mood for a lesson on golem ethics."

"I cannot offer you such, since I have spoken with no other golems that I can remember," Shale replied unperturbedly. "I was referring to the fact that it has always chosen its companions for strength and skill; although, of course, none would be able to match mine."

"Yes?" Elissa asked absently, tossing her pack inside her tent and belatedly wincing at the clatter. Maker, there were – had been? – potion vials in there; she should calm down before she caused yet more damage.

"The man it has made another Warden is old; he will die soon. Is it certain it made a good choice?"

_Not at all._ "He is an experienced fighter, Shale, and a famous general. You saw him fight off those bandits earlier."

"I have indeed. And he has been limping ever since. Humans are such squishy things—"

"What?" Elissa turned around and for the first time consciously made herself look at Loghain, who was setting up his own tent, rather slowly. And yes, he was limping. In the fading light of the day, she could also make out fresh blood running down the side of the face where he'd caught a blow in the fight.

Angrier than she had been all day, Elissa whirled back to Shale. "Thank you," she said tightly, and made her way around the fire, where Wynne was carefully sewing something in front of her own tidy tent.

The old mage looked up, smiling. "What is it, child? You look as if—"

"I am not a child, Wynne," Elissa said, just barely keeping a hold on her temper. "Please tell me: is there a reason why you didn't heal Loghain after the battle, when you healed the rest of us?"

Wynne's lips compressed into a tight line. "You are exhausted and upset, which is understandable—"

"Don't," Elissa cut her off. "This is unworthy of you. _You_, who taught me so much about compassion and kindness."

"That man is responsible—"

"For guarding your back and dispatching several bandits who would have killed you without hesitation. I said, at the Tower, that I would be honoured to have you join us, Wynne. Please don't make me think I was wrong. I," Elissa's voice broke, unexpectedly. "I couldn't bear it. Not from you."

The mage rose to her feet, leaning on her staff. She touched Elissa's shoulder and Elissa was horrified to see Wynne's eyes glisten wetly.

"I'm sorry," she began, but Wynne interrupted her gently.

"Hush. You have nothing to apologise for. It seems I was too hasty when I said that age had tempered my arrogance."

Swallowing, Elissa walked across the camp, matching her pace to Wynne's. Loghain was sitting on a folded blanket, slowly and methodically cleaning his sword. At their approach he glanced up, looking, as Shale had said, like an old man. He was older than her father had been, Elissa realised unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry for not tending to your wounds sooner, Loghain," Wynne said evenly. A cloud of white mist gathered in her free hand and enveloped him for a moment, before glowing briefly and disappearing. "I'll bring you a sleeping potion after supper."

Loghain looked after her as she returned to her tent, and then looked up at Elissa, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I suppose I should thank you for that _kindness_, Warden?" he said hoarsely.

"When Wynne came with me she became responsible for all our healing. She does not get to pick and choose," Elissa replied, and was surprised at how even her voice came out.

Loghain's hands were motionless on his blade. "Is that a warning?"

"An explanation." She paused. "Make sure to drink that potion. New Wardens have… bad dreams of the darkspawn. We can sense them, as they can apparently sense us. You'll need that sleep."

Loghain inclined his head at her and reached again for the polishing cloth.

A sudden thought came to her and Elissa smiled, grimly. "Can you cook? Zevran is cooking tonight, but we normally take turns."

He looked up again, startled. "Do you trust me not to poison you?"

She nodded at his sword. "I have to trust your other skills with my life, too."

Loghain simply nodded, and then frowned in contemplation. "I have not cooked for about thirty years, I think, but I suppose I should be able to manage something simple." He grimaced briefly. "As long as it does not involve any cheese. Maric always made me eat too much of the wretched stuff."

Elissa grimaced as well. "Oh Maker, yes. Alistair always says…" She trailed off as she heard herself speak, and swallowed. Without looking at Loghain she turned around and walked to her tent, pitched as usual away from the others', for privacy.

Privacy she didn't need any more.


	2. Chapter 2

It got worse closer to the Southron Hills. Not bandits any more, of course; they wouldn't have dared to come this far south now.

"I admit I am not keen on stopping here for the night, even knowing you will be sleeping but a few feet away, my dear," Zevran said, meticulously cleaning darkspawn blood off one of his daggers. His flirting was automatic, and his eyes looked shadowed as he looked up at Elissa.

She nodded. "Even with Shale standing watch I can't think of any way to secure the camp for the night. If we light a fire, they'll see us from miles away; if we don't, we will stumble over each other when they attack."

"More people standing watch, in shifts," said an unexpected deep voice behind her, and Elissa almost jumped. Loghain crouched and used the rags on the genlock's corpse to wipe his sword clean. "This way all of us get a few hours' sleep, at least."

"Not Wynne," Elissa said absently. "She needs the rest more than the rest of us, and we'll need her at full strength if there is an attack. Four and four? Well, Shale doesn't need sleep, so four and five, really."

Loghain straightened and nodded. "It is said they come out of the earth itself, how much of that is true? I know they live in the Deep Roads."

"They do seem to come up from beneath, yes."

"There is no rain, so we need not look for cover," Loghain said, turning around slowly to examine the darkening landscape. "And as we are equally vulnerable to attack whether we hide or not, I suggest finding a place that offers the most advantages to us, should an attack occur. Warden," he added belatedly, looking at her with a strange twist of his lips she couldn't interpret.

And it was absurd, so very absurd, because Loghain and tales of his strategy and tactics had been a fixture in her life as long as she could remember; her father always speaking of him with respect, if no affection. And here she was.

Here they all were.

She nodded briskly, dispelling the thoughts. Grey Wardens were pragmatic; they made unlikely alliances and used all available resources, as she now knew first-hand. And now she had an experienced general to help her. It was, in a strange way, a relief. "You are right," she said. "They will sense you and me whether we light a fire or not, so maybe a hill with an unobstructed view?"

Loghain just looked at her, not moving.

"What?" Elissa asked impatiently. "Come, we need to make a decision; it's getting dark soon."

"I was not expecting you to agree with me," Loghain said slowly. "It was… a surprise, I admit."

"You've been fighting and planning longer than I have been alive," Elissa said. "I would be a fool not to listen to you, especially when you offer sound advice."

He stared at her a moment longer, his face blank, then turned around and pointed to a hill close by, overlooking the road and the fields around it. "That one?"

Elissa looked at Zevran. "Can you scout up there and see if it's safe for now, and if there's a good view? No risks; I want you to lead any trouble back to us, if you find it."

The elf arched an eyebrow at her. "'Can' I? Surely you are not questioning my skills or my stamina, my dear."

Elissa smiled despite herself. "Then let's say I desire a demonstration. But Zev: no heroics or Maker help me, I will… think of a suitable punishment."

Zevran smiled a slow and lascivious smile at her. "You keep saying these things to me and then leave me alone in my tent to contemplate them. That, I assure you, is punishment enough." With a last wink at her he disappeared into the sparse bushes by the roadside.

"That elf looks familiar," Loghain said, frowning.

"You hired him to kill Al—to kill me," Elissa said, wiping her own sword and dagger on another corpse and sitting down on a boulder. Behind Loghain she could see Sten tenderly cleaning Asala and Oghren apparently trying to chat up Wynne. Where that dwarf had gotten hold of yet more alcohol she'd never know.

Unexpectedly, Loghain's lips twisted into an ugly sneer. "It was Howe – my responsibility, of course, and eventually my order – but it was that disgusting weasel who brought the assassin in." He shook his head sharply. "My condolences on the death of your father. Bryce was a good man."

Elissa felt bile rise in her throat. "And yet you allied yourself with his murderer. I'm sure your condolences are heartfelt."

Loghain met her eyes unflinching. "Of all the things I've done, Howe is… the dirtiest stain on my hands and the one I regret most. I should have had him executed the moment I arrived back in Denerim."

_Do you regret him more than leaving your son-in-law to die?_ Elissa almost asked, but bit her lip at the last second.

And then there was an unpleasant buzz in her head, like sandpaper against her nerves. Loghain reached for his sword the same time she reached for hers and it was he who shouted "Darkspawn!" to warn the others.

Elissa turned towards the hill. Zevran was outlined against the sky for a moment, before breaking into a run down, towards them. Behind him was a large mob, hurlocks, genlocks and shrieks; possibly even blight wolves.

She ran uphill, towards Zevran, Shale's heavy footsteps thumping close behind her, and from the corner of her eyes she saw another, smaller group of darkspawn appear from around the hill.

_The Maker shall be my beacon and my shield,_ Elissa thought inconsequentially, which was absurd, because only Wynne and Leliana occasionally quoted the Chant and the only one who really prayed was Alis—and then her sword was in a genlock's chest and there was no more time for thought or prayer.

The battle was vicious but practiced, all of them falling in their familiar routines. Protect the mages. Leave room for Sten and Oghren to swing. Keep out of Shale's way. Slash and stab and don't think about anything other than the fight.

Elissa sliced a hurlock's head off with a clean sweep of her sword and went back into a ready stance. The mob around her was thinning, she realised; Leliana had just dispatched a genlock with an upward stab of one of her daggers, and Oghren's battleaxe swished through the air to behead another. In fact, they all seemed to be almost free of—

No, not all of them. She looked down, over the piling bodies, where the brilliant sunset was clearly illuminating another, larger group of darkspawn closing in on a figure in dark grey armour. She couldn't make out Loghain's face, but his movements were not the graceful, smooth moves of an experienced fighter any longer; they were jerky and clumsy and Elissa hadn't even realised she was running and calling for Sten and Shale to follow before she was halfway down the hill.

They smashed into the mob of darkspawn, in Shale's case literally. Elissa stabbed a genlock between the ribs with her dagger and through the stomach with her sword, already pulling the weapons out as the body slid down, and caught Loghain's eyes in that moment. He looked wild, pale, his hair matted with human and darkspawn blood and his expression half-crazed. His lips moved, but she couldn't hear him over the noise.

Then a shriek was in front of her, maw open like a travesty of a smile, and she concentrated on her own breathing and the weapons in her hands.

The pile of corpses was growing as an arrow whistled by her ear and embedded itself in the eye of a hurlock she was blocking with her sword.

"The ones uphill are all dead," Leliana called from behind her, and, suspecting what was to come, Elissa reached out and yanked at Loghain's arm, pulling him away from the darkspawn – when had she gotten so close? – and then something whirled through the air, exploding into a fireball on the spot where he had stood.

For a moment there was silence; nothing moved.

Elissa straightened carefully and turned around. Everybody was accounted for and standing. "Anyone with broken bones?" she called out, and got only negative replies and a snort from Shale. This had gone surprisingly well.

"All right. Leliana and Sten, go around the hill from the right, Oghren and Morrigan from the left; make sure there isn't anyone we missed. Lead them back here if you find anyone. Shale, stick close to Wynne, please. Zev, can your much-lauded stamina handle another trip to the top?"

"You wound me, my friend," Zevran said, sounding barely out of breath. He disappeared as soundlessly as before.

Elissa turned to Loghain and frowned. He was bent over, hands resting on his knees, and breathing in short, painful-sounding pants. Without thinking about it she put her hand on the only exposed skin she could reach, the back of his neck. "Are you injured?"

He shook her hand off and straightened, turning to look at her. Pale, with sunken, glazed eyes, he looked old and ill. He tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again. "Why—did you come— back?"

Elissa shook her head in confusion. "What?"

He brushed his dirty hair out of his face with a shaking hand. "You—it was too dangerous. I was only one—you should have stayed there—"

"We would have had to fight them off eventually anyway," Elissa said, understanding at last. "And I don't abandon—"

He stepped away sharply with an ugly sound that she belatedly recognised as a laugh. "No, of course you don't. Noble Grey Wardens don't—"

"Shut up!" she said sharply, and to her surprise he did. "Are you injured?"

Loghain shook his head with a jerky movement. There was human blood on his face, and his shield arm hung limply.

Elissa rolled her eyes. "I'll ask Wynne to have a look at you. And there's nothing noble about it. You already cost me enough; I don't squander my resources."

She walked up towards Shale and Wynne without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

"Keep it on till morning," Wynne said, tying a poultice to Elissa's shoulder. "And I suggest you take the second watch. You need rest."

Elissa nodded absently, looking around the camp. Everybody was tense, jumpy; although in Sten's case that merely manifested in him caressing Asala more often.

Her eyes passed over Loghain, who was sorting his pack by his tent, and she looked up at Wynne. "How is he? He wouldn't say if he was injured."

"Blood loss, mostly, and a heavy blow to his shoulder. I told him the same thing; he needs to sleep, if he can."

Elissa sighed. "I don't like putting both of us on the same watch, but there's nothing for it. Thank you, Wynne." She stood up, feeling lightheaded and muttered a curse that would have made her mother say a few choice words of her own. Loghain's tent seemed very far away.

By the time she'd limped over, he was simply staring into the fire, not moving. "We're on second watch, you and me both," Elissa said with a sigh. "Wynne's ord— ah, advice. I'd rather split us up; there is a greater chance of advance warning when a Warden is awake. But then, there are so many of those things roaming about that it makes little difference."

Loghain nodded without looking up.

Elissa waited to see if more would be forthcoming. After a minute she shrugged and turned around.

"Warden."

Loghain's low, hoarse voice made her turn back. He was looking at her at last; the fire casting dancing shadows onto his face. "Yes?" she asked when he didn't say anything more.

"The dreams," he said eventually, with uncharacteristic tentativeness. "You said only new Wardens have them."

Elissa grimaced. On one hand, she couldn't care less if Loghain's dreams were uneasy; there was certainly enough to haunt him at night for the rest of his life. But on the other hand, he was a fellow Warden, and she remembered the terror of her first nights after the Joining. If Alistair hadn't been there to explain, she might have gone mad with worry and fear.

"I was told," she began carefully, "that we hear the archdemon speak to the horde, through the Taint in our blood. Eventually the dreams fade, or one learns to block them, except if something unusual happens and the archdemon's commands are especially loud. Years later the dreams return, which is when you know—"

"The Calling," Loghain said. "Maric spoke about it."

Elissa raised her eyebrows but nodded. "Yes. But once the archdemon is slain, I think it will be quieter. I was told that when there is no Blight, most darkspawn are barely capable of coordinated action, never mind speech."

Loghain turned back to the fire. "That is… a relief," he said at last.

"You can ask Wynne for another sleeping draught, if you need one," Elissa said.

Loghain didn't answer.

Losing patience with him, Elissa shrugged and drew in a breath as it pulled painfully at her shoulder wound. "Sten will wake you for your watch," she said, and walked back to her tent.

Her own sleep was restless, but that had little to do with the archdemon's call and far more with her injured shoulder. By the time Leliana woke her with a cup of hot tea, however, the pain had dulled considerably, and once she had woken up all the way, the wooziness was gone, too.

Shale was immovable against the starry sky, only returning Elissa's nod. Slipping to the perimeter of the camp, Elissa wrapped her cloak closer around her to ward off the night's chill, and settled on a fallen log, looking west.

"We should reach Redcliffe tomorrow," Loghain suddenly said behind her.

Elissa jumped, spilling the dregs of her tea over her hands. "Maker's breath, you startled me."

Loghain didn't reply, other than raising an eyebrow. He, too, wore a heavy cloak that he pulled tighter around his shoulders, sitting down on the other end of the log.

"Yes, I know," Elissa said, sighing. "Not exactly a sterling example of paying attention to my surroundings. But you know how approaching darkspawn feels; it's hard to miss, whatever I do." She put the cup aside and wiped her hands on the cloak.

He was silent for a long moment. "There should be more of them."

Elissa nodded. "I know what you mean. This doesn't feel like we're skirting around the edges of an army. Let's hope there is some useful intelligence to be had at Redcliffe. I don't like this."

"Indeed."

They sat silently for a minute. More alert now, Elissa didn't miss the crackling of dry grass under heavy paws as Cal padded into view, nosed her knee in greeting, and lay down next to her to watch the tents behind them.

"I can scarcely believe Bryce would let you name your dog Calenhad." Loghain's voice, pitched low, sounded unexpectedly mild. Hearing his name spoken, Cal raised his head and looked at him, then went back to guarding the camp.

Elissa surprised herself by smiling. That particular memory carried no sting. "I first wanted to name him Dane, but it would have been rather unoriginal. Father thought Calenhad an incredibly offensive name for a dog, of course, so I had to promise to shorten it."

"You mean you followed Bryce everywhere with a soulful look and a great many well-reasoned arguments, until he grew so tired of it that he would have allowed you anything?" Loghain asked dryly.

Elissa had to suppress a grin. She'd forgotten for a moment that Loghain was a father of a grown daughter himself; of course he'd know all the tricks.

Darkness created an unwelcome intimacy. She could hear Loghain's measured breaths even if she couldn't see him, a shadow among shadows. "Did you sleep?" she asked eventually.

When he didn't answer she rolled her eyes, grateful for the concealing dark. "Personally I may not care much about your well-being, but I need to know if I can rely on everyone tomorrow."

"I slept," he replied after a pause.

"Enough to be able to fight?"

"Yes," he said curtly.

Elissa bit her lip and breathed out through her nose. "Loghain, as your commander I order you to tell me if you are ever injured or otherwise incapacitated, in the future. You of all people should understand that I need to know that about the people I lead."

She expected anger from him, or at least a sarcastic remark. Instead he simply said, "yes, Warden."

There was nothing to say to that, so Elissa glared at the darkness. Unfortunately what it showed her was no approaching enemy.

She had learned politics and fighting from her father, and ruthlessness and diplomacy from her mother. But from both of them she had also learned about the heavy burden of uncompromising justice.

It was those memories that finally drove her to speak. "I've been unfair to you. I apologise."

She couldn't see Loghain's face, but she saw him turn around. "You have been more than fair," he said, sounding startled. "Had our roles been reversed—"

Elissa shook her head. "No. I was blaming you for Alistair's decision to leave, hating you for it. That was not fair to you."

"I understand you and he were… close," Loghain said carefully, after a moment's silence.

Elissa chuckled grimly at his unexpected tact. "That's one way of putting it, yes. I hated hurting him, and I wish I'd had the opportunity to talk to him beforehand, but I had to make a quick decision; we were in front of—"

"Of the entire country, yes," Loghain said. He sighed. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss."

"I will try to find him again, if we survive," Elissa said, worrying at the clasp of her cloak. "I don't even know if he would—anyway. Alistair leaving was not your fault. The decision to spare your life and let you join the Wardens was mine alone."

"I understand," Loghain said with a heavy finality, and Elissa realised that yes, _he_ truly did know the weight of quick and merciless decisions.

They watched the slowly shifting stars in silence, but something had shifted between them, making the stillness if not comfortable, then at least easier to bear.

-o-o-o-

Elissa tried not to look too closely at the frightened faces of the villagers, or the set faces of the soldiers assembled at Castle Redcliffe. Mostly, she just didn't want to look for faces weren't there. Her own little group was silent and weary; darkspawn blood not yet dry on their armour.

The Guerrin brothers, Riordan, and the queen were clustered around the fireplace of the large, freezing main hall of the castle. Anora didn't even look at Elissa, though she nodded a perfunctory greeting. Her eyes slid to her father, relief and concern both visible under the mask of royal bearing.

Eamon and Teagan were in armour, and at least Teagan's wore signs of recent battle. His handsome face was smudged with dirt and blood. He tried to smile in greeting, but it looked more like a pained grimace.

Absurdly, it was Riordan who came forward to greet them, and just for a moment Elissa saw him not as a brother Warden, but as an Orlesian, playing host in a Fereldan arl's castle. She consciously forced herself to relax, and wondered tiredly if Loghain's world view was contagious.

Loghain himself merely answered Riordan's greeting, if it had been one, in kind, and stayed silent, even while they discussed tactics and army movements. When everyone had gone to their rooms for what little rest could be snatched before the army would march in the morning, he disappeared without another word.

"And so ends the Theirin bloodline," Eamon said, looking on as the door closed behind Queen Anora. "A commoner's daughter on the throne of Ferelden."

Bann Teagan shifted uneasily. "Brother…"

Elissa tilted her chin up to look up directly at Eamon. She was too tired for real anger, but there had been a simmering resentment under her skin for days, easily tapped into. "If Theirin blood was all you wanted, Arl Eamon, Alistair could have spared a few drops to sprinkle over the throne, I am sure. Ferelden has a queen, the same queen who has ruled it wisely and well for five years."

Eamon sighed. "You realise it could have been you on the throne instead, Lady Cousland? Even before a major part of the Landsmeet supported Bryce instead of Cailan after Maric's death, your marriage to Cailan was a much-discussed option."

"No, not much discussed," Elissa said, summoning the half-forgotten icy hauteur of a teyrn's daughter. "My parents mentioned it once, and after I categorically refused to even consider marriage to your nephew they never raised the subject with me again. Perhaps because they respected my wishes and my choices, my lord, although I realise it is a far-fetched concept."

Teagan threw her a quick, unreadable look which Elissa ignored.

"And it's Warden, my lord. I am Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, at least until we reach Denerim." She forced a smile, not caring about the sincerity of it. "I thank you for your hospitality, and I bid you good night. I have business with my fellow Wardens that cannot wait."

She swept out of the room, chin still held high, not allowing her hands to shake until she was out of the brothers' sight. Whatever Riordan had to say, it had better be important.

-o-o-o-

Elissa knocked on the heavy door and was not entirely surprised when Loghain opened it a moment later. He had removed his armour, and he looked tired and worn, but he had evidently not gone to bed yet.

Slipping inside, Elissa closed the door behind her. "Oh, good. I was afraid you'd be asleep already."

He drew a hand over his face, an uncharacteristic admission of weakness. "I do not sleep the night before a battle; I never have."

"That's not very smart, especially at your age," Elissa said without thinking, then shook her head. "And I'm being especially rude. I apologise. But still, being well-rested and well-fed before a battle never hurts."

"Old habits are hard to break," Loghain said wryly, "seeing as they were formed a long time before I became 'my age'. Although generally I would not disagree with you." He paused. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Warden? Some news the swamp witch brought you? I saw her outside your room earlier."

Elissa sighed. "Considering what I've come to ask of you, I would prefer it if you called me by my name, I think."

Loghain arched an eyebrow at her. "That sounds rather dire. Very well – Elissa. What have you come to ask?"

Now, actually facing him, Elissa realised that there was only way she could approach this: directly. "It was indeed something Morrigan has said. She offers the possibility of a magic ritual, by means of which none of us Wardens would have to die with the archdemon – save by conventional means, that is."

"I see," Loghain said. "And my part in it?"

Elissa closed her eyes briefly and plunged on. "The ritual would involve you having sex with Morrigan tonight, in order to conceive a child."

Loghain looked at her blankly, then shook his head, as if to clear it. "I would ask if you were serious, in different circumstances; but you _are_ serious, are you not?"

Elissa nodded, forcing herself to not look away. Tonight she owed him complete honesty.

He whirled away from her and paced the length of the room. The tiny bedroom was too small for dramatic gestures, however, and he reached the wall in merely three steps. "I had planned to slay the archdemon myself, should Riordan fail," he said without turning around. "I thought it fitting to give my life to save my Ferelden from the Blight; was it not why you recruited me?"

"I was thinking about your atonement, of course," Elissa said slowly. "But it's more complicated than Riordan thinks. And than Morrigan thinks. She said your sacrifice would make you a hero again, and leave me forgotten: trying to appeal to my vanity."

Loghain turned around then, frowning. "This is ridiculous. I could barely stand to live as a hero; I certainly would not want to die as one. I simply seek to right the wrongs I have wrought upon my country and its people. I thought you…" He broke off, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile. "Evidently not."

"Evidently you are not listening," Elissa said, consciously gentling her tone. "I have watched you these past days. I don't think you seek glory in death. My father always said there is no such thing as a glorious death; only a glorious life."

"He was right," Loghain said absently, then focussed on her again. "Then what are you saying?"

"I am saying that if we manage to slay the archdemon, there will be a life after the battle, after the Blight."

Now she seemed to have his complete attention. "I cannot fault you for thinking ahead."

"It is not a given that any one of us will be able to slay the archdemon at all. Riordan seems to be seeking a confrontation with the archdemon at any cost, which makes his survival unlikely. Either the darkspawn horde will get him, or the archdemon itself will. That leaves the two of us, potentially still with the goal of slaying the archdemon."

Loghain nodded.

"Assuming we will be able to slay the archdemon in Denerim – and those are not odds even Oghren would bet on, I think – we will need to start rebuilding the Grey Wardens immediately afterwards. Either to continue the struggle, should the archdemon or a significant portion of the horde survive, or to wipe out the remaining darkspawn stragglers that will continue to plague the country." Elissa sighed. "I am not a pessimist by nature, but I don't like the picture that presents itself, Riordan's pretty words aside."

"And again I cannot fault your reasoning," Loghain said. "What is your conclusion?"

"Morrigan offers the chance that we both may live, even if Riordan is set on achieving a messy, pardon me, a noble death. He is thinking in terms of one battle; I am thinking of the war. I will need you, Loghain Mac Tir, to stand beside me and help me rebuild the Fereldan Grey Wardens."

"You trust me that much?" he asked quietly.

"You love Ferelden. You have given your oath and your body to the Grey Wardens. I don't see how I could not trust you with this, or whom to trust more to protect our country."

"I spent a not inconsiderable amount of resources on trying to kill you in the name of protecting our country, War—Elissa," Loghain said dryly. "But I thank you nonetheless." He ran a rand through his hair. "And to return to the matter at hand – as my commander you could simply order me to participate in the ritual."

Elissa tried to suppress a shudder. "I could never order you to let yourself be violated in such a way."

Loghain looked at her evenly, but there was a strange expression in his grey eyes that she couldn't decipher. "But you would order me to my death, if necessary?"

"Yes," Elissa said frowning. "Not gladly and not easily, but if it was necessary, yes. But _this_ is a violation of your dignity and your body. I told you why I thought it was a good idea, but it's entirely your own decision. I can't and I won't pressure you in this. Do you want some time to consider? She said it must be tonight, but there is still—"

"No."

"Is that your answer?" Elissa asked tightly, and was surprised at Loghain shaking his head.

"No, I do not need more time. I agree to participate in this ritual of hers." He straightened, as if putting on invisible armour. "Let us talk to the witch before I change my mind."

-o-o-o-

Elissa supposed the sane thing to do would have been to stay in her room after Morrigan had led Loghain away to hers.

The sane thing definitely did not involve skulking around Redcliffe Castle, walking the cold corridors towards Loghain's empty room. But there she was, and without much hesitation she slipped inside the small bedchamber again. There was no chair, so she perched on the bed, feeling vaguely guilty at trespassing, but not guilty enough to leave again.

Loghain was a stubborn, hard, and cold man, so dedicated to his cause that there seemed to be no room for anything else in his life. Now, at least, their goal was the same. But Elissa had found, to her considerable surprise, that despite her own personal high cost of gaining Loghain's support, she could sympathise with him somewhat. His remorse certainly seemed sincere enough. In fact, he seemed more like the fearsome fighter of old and less the politician driving Ferelden into a civil war. She could understand that – fighting was far easier than politics, after all.

She sat in the near darkness, lost in her musings, until she heard Loghain's heavy steps in the corridor. Morrigan had been right; it had not taken long at all.

He opened the door and gave her a cursory look, but moved, without speaking, to the tiny bathroom, firmly clothing the door behind him.

Elissa felt rather silly. Stay or go? But could she simply go away without even apologising for having been there in the first place? What had she been _thinking_ in the first place, coming here?

Eventually the splashing of water stopped, and Loghain stepped out, the collar of his shirt clinging damply to his skin. He turned to her, face once more an unreadable mask. "Well? Are you here to inquire about my… performance?"

Elissa pursed her lips. "I was worried about you," she said honestly.

"I am perfectly well," Loghain said, his expression as blank as ever. Had she not looked down then, she would never have noticed that his hands were shaking. "The witch seemed to think the ritual successful. So if you will excuse me, I will—"

"Did she do anything to you, other than the..." Elissa trailed off. Her mother's etiquette lessons had certainly never covered this.

"Just the expected and agreed upon," Loghain said curtly. "I would really rather get some rest now, Warden, if you don't mind."

He looked very much in need of it, Elissa saw. He was pale and the shadows under his eyes were even darker than usual. But he had said he couldn't sleep before a battle…

_There are things a good commander must always do, pup._

"Lie down," she said abruptly, a plan beginning to form in her head.

"I beg your pardon?" Loghain's tone was icy.

"You wanted an order. So this is me, your commander, ordering you to lie down."

Walking around the bed slowly, Loghain kicked off his boots automatically and lay on the bed, as far from her as possible. "Considering that you and the swamp witch are apparently close friends, may I ask what I am to expect?" he asked, looking straight up and crossing his arms over his chest.

"A blanket," Elissa muttered, fighting to pull one out from under her without getting up. That accomplished, she spread it over Loghain, feeling painfully ridiculous. Going by his expression, he thought the same.

"What now?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. "A bed-time story?"

"Sounds good," Elissa said, carried on by a wave of sheer momentum; afraid to stop and think because _dear Maker_ what was she _doing_? "Father only ever told us stories of how you were King Maric's right hand in the rebellion and after, but he didn't know you very well back then. Tell me the story of how you met him?"

"How I met Bryce?" Loghain asked, frowning. He pulled at the blanket, adjusting it around himself, which Elissa counted as a minor victory.

"No, how you met King Maric. You must have met when you were about my age."

"Oh." Loghain closed his eyes and in the candlelight Elissa could see silvery strands glittering almost invisibly in his hair. "Is that an order as well?"

"Well, you can tell the Legend of Calenhad instead. Or do you remember 'Dane and the Werewolf'?"

Loghain shot her a glare and then pursed his lips. "We were younger than that."

Elissa blinked. "What?"

"When Maric and I met, we were younger than you are now, although not by much. His mother, Queen Moira, had just been killed by a pack of cowardly traitors," Elissa could make out the shape of his fists bunching under the covers, "but he managed to escape, wounded and lost in the forest."

"And then?"

The tale was long and convoluted, and Elissa knew large parts of it already, from Aldous and from history books and from her father, but it served its purpose. By the time Loghain was talking about trying to persuade the Banns to join Maric's side he was yawning, his voice getting more indistinct by the minute.

Elissa waited until it had quietened to a murmur. The candles had burned down, and only the coals in the fireplace lit the room with a faint glow.

Loghain's voice trailed off, finally. He didn't look relaxed asleep. If anything he looked more tired, the deep shadows making his face looks gaunt.

Employing all her not inconsiderable stealth skills, Elissa crept out of the room, biting her lip to suppress a yawn of her own. They might both share the dreams of the darkspawn tonight, but at least she had done her best.

_A good commander takes care of all her soldiers, pup. Every last one._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Since RL has been a bit busy lately, this is just a mini-chapter. However, I aten't dead, and I am still writing as much as time permits. Many thanks to Lilith Morgana for plotting and hand-holding._

* * *

Getting ready to march in the morning was unpleasant, and not only because barely anyone had gotten enough rest. Elissa kept out of Morrigan's way, somehow feeling as if she was invading Loghain's privacy by merely being in her presence, which was utterly irrational but had been making her uneasy ever since she had set eyes on Morrigan at breakfast.

Loghain himself kept rather efficiently busy, somehow always on the other side of the castle yard from Elissa and Morrigan both, whenever Elissa looked. Once, catching his eyes inadvertently, she was treated to a dark glower; apparently he was less than pleased by her visit from the night before. As she would have felt the same way, she couldn't blame him for it, and so, sighing, she respected the distance he put between them.

Elissa politely declined Arl Eamon's offer of a horse. A horse would have meant riding with Anora, Eamon and the other nobles at the head of the army, and she wanted to spend what were probably the last days of her life with her companions instead.

A year ago her place would have been unquestionably with the _other_ nobles. The now was more complicated.

When the army finally set out, it had an odd kind of order to it. Elven archers were marching beside dwarves and human footmen, flanked by knights of every arling and bannorn, their banners snapping in the breeze. The atmosphere should have been glum and tense; nobody had any illusions about their chances of survival. And yet, there was a strange air of determination about them, a grim resolve. Like a Mabari, Elissa thought, absently reaching down to stroke Cal's head. All of Ferelden growling like a big, angry dog, ready to defend itself and its home to the last breath.

"'tis most impractical," Morrigan said testily from her other side, and Elissa jumped, caught unawares.

"What is?"

"There are mages here – castrated, bound, watched over by templars like a herd of _cattle_. They could help you scout for the enemies, and yet—"

"Morrigan," Elissa said warily. "Some of the people here are farmers, whose only idea of mages are watered-down tales of your mother. If they saw spells being cast, they'd panic. The templars are here as much to protect the mages from the people as the people from the mages, you know."

A thin smile curved Morrigan's lips at the mention of her mother. "Perhaps. I, however, have other means at my disposal."

Sighing, Elissa looked over her shoulder. They were walking in an empty space, behind Eamon and the knights but ahead of the main body of the army. A distance created as much out of respect as out of fear, she supposed, looking up at the mountain of Shale's back in front of her. "Very well. But please make sure you won't be see—"

Morrigan gave an indignant huff. "'tis a pity your memory is short-lived, for I distinctly remember telling you about the magic that is known to me. Or is it that you doubt my skills?"

Elissa forced her fists to unclench. "I shall await your report, Morrigan."

With a last indignant glance over her shoulder, Morrigan slowed and stepped behind a tree by the roadside. A moment later, a large black-winged kite rose into the air with a sharp cry and veered off to the south.

Elissa looked around carefully, but there was no indication that anyone had noticed any women turning into birds. At any rate, there was no outcry. She breathed out in relief and no small amount of anger, before realising that she had acquired another companion where Morrigan had been walking.

"What is she doing?" Loghain asked sharply, without any preamble. So much for nobody noticing.

"Scouting. She is faster and less conspicuous this way," Elissa replied simply.

They walked a full minute in silence. Elissa found herself vaguely surprised both that Loghain wasn't leaving her side and, even more surprised, that she didn't really wish him gone. He was restful company, in an absurd way, demanding neither her attention nor conversation.

So of course it was her who finally broke the silence. "It feels odd not to see you up there," she said, nodding at the group of riders at the head of army.

"If I remember the last weeks correctly, it was your doing that removed me from _there_," he replied, strangely without too much heat.

Elissa frowned, trying to remember the time after Ostagar, the jumble of emotions and decisions that had only slowly evolved into a strategy. "It was you painting us as outlaws," she finally said. "Blaming us for Cailan's death. And later finding out that Howe had become your right-hand man, and then the slave trade. I couldn't—"

"I gathered it was my—betrayal," Loghain's lips curled unpleasantly around the word. "Abandoning the king's forces, causing the other Grey Wardens deaths—"

"No," Elissa interrupted. "It was Alistair who couldn't forget Duncan's death at Ostagar. I didn't like Duncan enough to care about him more than about any other dead soldier. His death at the hands of darkspawn was his destiny, after all, from the day he Joined." She looked away, towards the grey horizon. "It was being called responsible for the king's death that hit me strongest. I knew him, after all, and my father fought with King Maric..."

She trailed off, not sure what else to say. She had barely known Cailan, and not liked him very much, at that. But Loghain had been his father-in-law and his father's best friend. She didn't know how to phrase the question without making it sounding offensive, and, strangely, she did not _wish_ to give offense.

Loghain was silent for so long that she almost took it as a dismissal, before he did speak, not looking at her. "You know of the battle of West Hill."

The non-sequitur hadn't been a question, but she nodded anyway. "Yes. One of our knights was a West Hill survivor."

Even though Loghain's head was half turned away, she could make out his lips twisting in an ugly grimace. "One of the very few, then." He paused, studying his hands as he walked. "We were betrayed and the battle was lost before it could even start. The usurper's army ambushed us before we were ready; none of the strategy was of use, in the end."

Elissa nodded cautiously, unsure of what he was saying. "Arl Eamon's father was the commander, wasn't he?"

Unexpectedly, Loghain chuckled, grating and entirely devoid of humour. "No. He was the leader of the entire rebel army at the time, but the commander was me. I was Arl Rendorn's second, and most of the strategy was mine." Again he gave the unsettling not-smile. "We were fighting to put Maric on his grandfather's throne. The entire rebel army fought in his name, under his banner, against the usurper."

This was such an obvious historical fact that Elissa simply nodded.

"Maric was separated from us," Loghain continued, looking at Shale's back but probably seeing something else entirely. "He was alone, surrounded and overwhelmed, and would have been killed on the spot."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Elissa frowned. "So how did he survive?"

Loghain was silent for a long time. "I gave the order," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I told Rowan that we should ride to Maric's aid. We abandoned our men and rushed to save the last Theirin heir."

"And most of the men were slaughtered," Elissa said, finally understanding. "At the cost of Maric's life."

Loghain gave a curt nod. "He was furious. I'd never seen him so angry before. He said," and his voice lost all expression, "he said that it was not about royal blood. He said Ferelden needed a good ruler, and it mattered little _who_ sat on the throne, as long it was a good king. He said that had Rowan and I stayed with the army we might have been able to get more men out alive." His voice dropped, becoming almost inaudible. "He said his Theirin blood was not worth the loss of so many people."

Elissa pondered that in silence. "And at Ostagar… Ferelden already had a good ruler. Safely away, in Denerim." She sighed. "Did Maric ever tell Cailan about… West Hill?"

Loghain shrugged. "He might have tried. He was… they were very different. Cailan grew up in a palace, surrounded by books of legends, and deep in his father's shadow that he wanted to finally escape in a burst of glory. He didn't understand…" his voice drifted off.

Elissa rather thought that she did. "But why us?" she asked eventually. "I understand why you didn't waste the men at Ostagar; enough had died there as it was. I even understand about Cailan. My father used to say he was as stubborn as a mule – I suppose he charged into the thick of the battle without giving much thought to the consequences. I know he didn't listen to you, when you asked him to stay behind. But why make the Grey Wardens responsible for his death?" She turned to him, frowning. "You know no Grey Warden could ever conspire—"

"All I knew," he said harshly, "was his desire to bring the Orlesian chevaliers into Ferelden. There was no indication this was a Blight, at the time. And Cailan always had ridiculous notions about making peace with Orlais. Peace! When most Fereldans still remember the humiliation and the blood that was spilled to drive those bastards out. That boy—" He fell silent abruptly.

"That boy is dead," Elissa said. "And I know you couldn't have done anything other than die with him, at Ostagar. But then you—"

"You needn't remind me of my mistakes of the past year, Warden," Loghain said, glaring at her. "Do you think I am not aware of every single one of them? I—"

There was the beat of strong wings nearby, and Morrigan emerged from the shrubs a moment later. "There are corpses on the road ahead, but I saw no darkspawn." She threw Loghain a look Elissa didn't like in the least and disappeared back into the bushes as a hare.

Sure enough, there was a commotion ahead, where Eamon and the others were, and Elissa and Loghain walked faster to look at what had made the horsemen so agitated.

There were corpses dangling from the branches of a nearby tree, and Elissa wondered, not for the first time, what made the darkspawn string up their victims in such a macabre way. She reached the corpses on the ground just in time to busy herself with those instead of contemplating possible darkspawn reasoning.

"Get those down," Loghain was saying sharply behind her. "It will not improve morale if they see them—oh, Maker's breath, it's just a dead body. Give me your knife—"

Elissa smiled grimly and toed the only human corpse in the pile over with her boot.

"Should we burn them?" Anora said from beside her. The queen was looking at the darkspawn bodies with calm, detached interest; very much her father's daughter.

"No time, I'm afraid, Your Majesty," Elissa answered and crouched down. There was a thick parchment packet tucked into the man's shirt, what was left of it. She took it and stood back up. "Loghain is right, though. The soldiers should not see this. We best move them into the bushes, I suppose."

"I will give orders for some strong men to help you," the queen said and stepped out of the way as Loghain, balancing easily in the tree above them, cut the first rope, dropping a woman's corpse into the road.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Elissa said. "If I may, please tell them that they need thick gloves that will be burned afterwards, and that—oh, Shale, could you help us here, please?"

As the corpses, human and darkspawn alike, were rolled off the road into the bushes below, Elissa felt a strange moment of dissociation. Lady Elissa Cousland should have been screaming at the sight of the corpses, or possibly vomiting off the side of the road, like the stocky, bearded bann just ahead of them. Elissa the Warden just felt faint admiration for the man who had managed to take so many darkspawn down before he died, and sadness, just as faint, for the lost lives. Most of all, however, she felt annoyance at the delay.

"Do you think it's possible to stop feeling?" she asked Loghain offhandedly as they stopped for a brief rest some hours later. "Those corpses earlier, the ones you cut down… I just don't care any more."

He gave her a grave stare that went on for just a little too long. "Yes. It is possible. But not for somebody like you. You will… feel enough, after the battle."

"If there is an after," Elissa said, and opened the packet she had taken from the dead man's body. "And what now? We just… endure?"

"Yes," he said again and came to crouch next to her as she sorted the papers from the packet. There was nothing personal that would have allowed for identification, unfortunately; merely drawings of various landscapes and tracings of Alamarri carvings, along with a large and detailed map of southern Ferelden.

A very detailed map indeed, Elissa realised and she bent down to look. Possibly dated pre-Occupation, as far as she could tell, it showed footpaths and tracks and all but the most insignificant hill and dip in the landscape.

She jumped as her finger, tracing their earlier way east from Denerim, bumped against Loghain's at what was most likely the hill next to the West Road where they had fought the two groups of darkspawn.

"Good workmanship," he said briefly, touching the ornate border of the map.

Elissa nodded and sighed. "And otherwise just drawings. Important enough to him that he wanted to save them, and yet we'll never find out who he was." She watched Loghain's fingers trace the stylised dogs chasing each other along the border and said, following a strange impulse, "take it."

He looked up, frowning. "I have no use for it. We need a detailed map of Denerim to plan the—"

"I have one in my pack; we can plan while we eat," Elissa said, wrapping up the drawings again. "Take the map. For later. After the battle."

"If there is an after," he echoed her, but did not resist further, folding the map carefully. "Thank you, Warden."

Thank the dead man, Elissa could have said. Or, let's hope you live long enough to get some use out of it. Instead she didn't look at him as she packed the drawings away. "You are welcome."


End file.
